


I learned you by heart

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:00:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Oliver's cut get really badly infected, and Elio is the nurse.This is before they get together. It's also very sappy.I've only seen the movie, so apologies if there's anything that feels wrong.Sickfic and budding romance.





	I learned you by heart

Something's was off with Oliver, that was much was clear.

This wasn't the first time that Elio had watched Oliver sleep, so he knew that something was different, wrong. He was breathing too loudly and irregularly, and his skin was too pale. And he was making weird noises as he breathed, sometimes wheezing, sometimes with something that sounded like a whimper. It was very un-Oliver-like.

Elio got closer and saw that Oliver had all the sheets and blankets on despite the terrible heat of the Italian weather, and even seemed to be shivering. They were calling for breakfast, but Oliver just frowned and whimpered, and buried himself deeper in the sheets. Something was very very wrong with him, and he kept breathing in a strange way.

The pallor, the irregular breathing, the sudden cold: of course, he was sick.

But now Elio had a problem, because he knew something that he wanted to share with the others (they should probably call the Doctor from the town, or at least have one of his parents check him over) but he had no reason to know that Oliver was sick. He'd missed breakfast before, and it was never a big deal. He had no reason to be there, watching, listening to his breathing.

It was a problem. He needed to think quickly.

Elio simply decided that he would say that he went into his room to ask him if he was going to get breakfast and saw that he looked odd, should probably be checked over. That was a good, logical explanation.

As it turned out, the cut he'd received had gotten infected, and the infection had worsened considerably the previous night. He was feverish, disoriented, and the affected area was red and swollen, and painful to the touch. Oliver woke up, but had trouble recognising them, which made his father very worried.

Elio was left to look after their sick guest while his father looked for any kind of medicine they may have lying around, and his mother drove into town to fetch the Doctor herself. They were just hoping that he hadn't had any urgencies and went some place else. Oliver's fever was pretty bad, and they needed some medication to bring it down.

And so Elio was left with that tower of a man, and some cold water and cloth meant to cool him down. Oliver was burning up, shivering and in pain, but his expression softened when he felt the touch of the cold water. He seemed.... relieved, and Elio smiled a little, glad to be helping, glad to be alleviating his pain, if only for a little.

The sick man breathed deeply, and it his eyes opened, slowly, carefully. He breathed out. They were bright and glassy from the fever, but they focused on Elio for a short while.

“...Wha....”

“You're ill, I'm just trying to make you feel better.”

Oliver simply accepted this, and closed his eyes again. For a moment, there was no one else in the world, the whole world didn't outside of that room. There was just the two of them in that bed, the breeze coming through the window and Oliver's irregular breathing and glassy eyes.

His shirt was open as they had needed to assess the state of the cut and it was left like that. Elio was looking, looking intensely, as if he could memorise every little detail of his chest and abdomen, the skin, the muscles, the bones underneath. He wanted to know by heart every little detail of that body, every perfect imperfection, every corner, all of the things that made him so irrevocably him. Oliver's body was like a song, one in which he wanted to be buried in forever, one he wanted to be always listening to.

Elio took the wet cloth and put it on the American's brow, half smiling when he saw the relief in his features. It was strange seeing him, usually so tall and flawless, so charming and confident, so in control, suddenly being vulnerable, reduced to a mountain of skin and muscle, shivering and absolutely helpless. He wasn't used to seeing him like this, so subdued, so...human. So disarmingly beautiful, even in that situation.

But this changed nothing, in fact, Elio felt that he loved the other man even more after seeing this side of him. After seeing him so human, so small, so... different. Different, but still perfect, even in sickness, even in pain. Elio moved the cloth around his face, careful, gentle. Trying to memorise all the angles in there, the half closed eyes, the mouth, the chin. Trying to memorise the sound of his irregular breathing, deep, loud, but so there...

Oliver's eyes focused on him for a moment, and Elio tried to look away, maybe leave to change the water, just tear himself from that bed so that he could pretend he hadn't been staring all that time. But he couldn't go, try as he might, he continued to be there, and painfully blue eyes were looking back at him.

“How are you feeling?” Elio asked, because it seemed like the appropriate thing to ask.

“Better.” The voice was rough, but lower than usual.

Elio put his small hand on Oliver's perfect brow and softly shook his head.

“You're still burning up.”

Oliver shivered under his touch, and Elio felt that all of him was shivering too, his whole body and mind shaking with something he couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was intense, strong, intoxicating. For a moment, he was lost in the other man's eyes, and then there was noise, and steps as somebody was walking up to that room.

For two and a half days Oliver was on that bed, having medicine, sleeping too many hours and shivering and making all those wonderful little sounds while he breathed loudly. Elio was never too far, finding any sort of excuse to help out, play nurse. Oliver didn't seem to mind all that much, and his bright glassy eyes seemed to lighten up a bit when they saw him.

Or maybe he was just making it all up. Or maybe it was simply because he knew Elio would bring medicines, and cool water and anything that could be soothing, and he smiled because he knew whatever it was, it would make him feel better. Maybe it was simply because his defences were down, and he didn't have the strength to pretend he didn't care.

It was nice. Even after Oliver recovered, Elio could remember those moments, the silence only broken by the breathing and the drops of water falling on the basin. He could recall every single detail. Elio had memorised the change in his eyes, and sometimes he could see it when he closed his eyes. Could see the curve of his chin, could see his bellybutton, could see glassy blue eyes looking at nowhere.

He had memorised him.

Learnt him by heart.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *hides self in shame* 
> 
> Thanks for reading this!
> 
> Feedback would be super welcome, please do tell me if you liked.


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